Pout
by naughty teacup
Summary: In the post-hours of a hunt, Sam and Dean lie under the neon glow and Sam can't sleep. Wincest, major fluff warning, written at four in the morning. One-shot.


**Title:** Pout  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genre:** General/Romance  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Warnings:** Wincest, fluff, Sam acting like a girl, post-hunt snuggle (?)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or any of its affiliates. Someone a lot more important and rich does (gyah, Erik Kripke GOD). Then it is quite natural to assume that I'm not making any money from writing this. If this is what you assumed, then you are absolutely correct. Rawr 3

**a/n:** Drabble, 700+ words. Yarly, there is something called 'Miss Gay America'. I'm not kidding. Anyways, sorry for the general suckage of this but it's four in the morning and I needed some non-worrying Wincesty fluff.

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Sam knew he should be sleeping. The titter tatter of rain sounded outside the dingy little motel room, no other sound audible but the deep breathing coming from his brother. Washed out neon light shone through the dirty window, making twisted shadows on the tattered carpet and stained tapestry. The hunt had been hard. Dean had barely managed to hit the shower and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Sam had been just as exhausted, taking a quick, hot shower after his brother and groaned in mercy as he'd crawled into the little less than comfortable bed next to his brother. And yet, sleep eluded him, making him twist and turn in cotton sheets, damp with cold sweat. Tennessee was hot this time of year, making this particular hunt especially exhausting. What was the chances of them coming across another Wendigo? Sam didn't know, although he suspected the chances weren't pretty high. Turning over once again, carefully shielding the quite painful scratch on his back, he faced his brother, sleeping soundly next to him. Both men had been too exhausted to even protest when the lady in the lobby had informed them of that they only had one king left but if they insisted on having two queens they could always drive 50 miles to the nearest hotel that had something vacant. They said it was fine and that they were absolutely okay with taking a king for the night and the lady had just smiled and apologized profusely for the lack of rooms but it was due to the 'Miss Gay America' pageant being held there over the weekend and all the rooms were unfortunately booked.

It took a lot of will-power for Sam to keep a straight face but he managed (if only just) and following after a grumbling Dean, he made it up the stairs safely to their room after only being sexually harassed by Miss Long Island and Miss Arkansas three times. He tried offering himself to take residue on the floor, seeing Dean was in worse shape than he was, but all he got in reply was a grumpy; "just don't hog all the blankets, Frances," as the bathroom door slammed shut two inches from his nose. He sighed audibly, eyes scanning over Dean's features once more.

He had really been fierce tonight. Fierce in the way that made Sam's stomach twist and turn as if it was going for gold in the Olympics and sent his body into delicious tremors. Dean had had that effect on him lately. Not only did he save the girl but he also saved Sam (or as Dean put it; "Yeah, I saved the girl alright," before patting Sam patronizingly on the shoulder) and as much as it annoyed him, he also felt gratitude and almost excitement (and at the same time terrified) at the way Dean would take a bullet for him. It seemed to happen an awful lot lately. Sam knew he didn't show how much he appreciated Dean being there, _always being there_, for him but he tried. Everyday he tried until finally Dean cracked (he blamed it later, in the lazy post-sex bliss in some cheesy motel room up in Missouri, on those big adorable puppy dog eyes) and let him love him as Sam needed to. He seemed so peaceful when he slept, all the weight of having to watch out for Sammy dispersing.

Sam had noticed, with great amusement, that Dean had the habit of pouting when he slept. He'd never tell him, as it would surely result in a round of denial and probably no kisses from said lips as punishment for even hinting at that Dean would do something as unmanly as pouting in his sleep, hence Sam kept it a secret. A soft smile grazed his features as he leaned in carefully, not wanting to wake his brother, and landed a soft kiss on those sleep-pouted lips. The smile turned wider as he felt said lips retaliate and himself being encircled by strong, warm arms. He nibbled slightly on Dean's lower lip, earning a slight moan from the older man. Dean grumbled something about being too tired so Sam contented himself by snuggling up against him, legs twined together and his face nuzzled against the sweet smelling skin where Dean's neck and shoulder conjoined. It didn't matter for Sam how utterly dysfunctional this was. Right now, all he had was Dean and right now, Dean was all he'd ever need.

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**a/n:** okay, that was awkward. Again, this is not my best but I hope it made some fangirl all fuzzy inside.


End file.
